


Applied Psychology

by fairbreeze



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-06
Updated: 2012-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-04 22:41:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fairbreeze/pseuds/fairbreeze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Better to be feared than loved, the book says, but little Rufus Shinra lies awake at night at an age where most kids are still scared about monsters under their beds and wonders-- why not both?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Applied Psychology

**Author's Note:**

> Only FFVII and AC compliant canon.
> 
> This This was written in response to a prompt here:  
> http://synecdochic.dreamwidth.org/510928.html: [final fantasy 7] the turks + rufus, what the boss says goes - Rufus's father has been muttering about how the Turks are more loyal to Rufus than to him for years, but he never suspects it's because Rufus is f**king them all.

It starts innocently enough.  A birthday present from his father.  A book.  It’s a little advanced for his age, but useful-- the only kind of present his father ever gives him, something useful.   
  
That book is innocent enough-- a book on psychology and how to use it to get what you want.  It’s couched in prettier terms, businesslike and professional, but that’s ultimately what it is.  The next year it’s one about leadership.  Better to be feared than loved, he learns from another, but little Rufus Shinra lies awake at night at an age where most kids are still scared about monsters under their beds and wonders-- _why not both?_     
  
It couldn’t be everyone, of course.  Most people would have to be made to fear him, when he was older.  But maybe, just maybe, he could get a few, the right few, to both respect and adore him.  If you could command that kind of focus, that kind of fealty, from the right people, why, you could change anything.  You could change everything.   
  
When he’s a bit older, the final piece slots into place.  Reno gives him a different kind of book, says that he’s old enough to be looking at things like that.  He’s right, but probably not for the reasons he thinks.  The pictures are educational enough, and Rufus spends some nights curled up under the covers of his bed, hand on his cock, learning.  But more than what’s in the book itself, the revelation that Rufus has is that the book exists at all.  The strange things that have been flitting through his head and his dreams... _other people think those things too_.  He’s not alone, it’s _everywhere_ and once he knows what to look for...   
  
Reno is first, because he knows from the start exactly what he needs to do.  He practices first, while he’s away on summer holiday.  He finds men, older men, who don’t know who he is this far from Midgar.  They aren’t gentle.  He doesn’t want them to be.  He learns the art of being degraded, or at least making them think he is.  He learns what it feels like to be fucked, to have another man-- a man he would never give the time of day to back in Midgar-- with his cock up his ass.  By the time he returns to Midgar, he knows what it’s like to wear someone else’s cum like battlepaint.   
  
He tells Reno about it, the first time they fuck.  He tells them about seeking out strange men, letting them use him, so that he could gain experience, so that he could learn how to relax just so, so he would know how to suck cock.  Reno calls him filthy things, pushes the dirt of the slums under his skin, thrills that underneath it all, Rufus is just as dirty as he is, just as stained.  Rufus tells him it was his influence, that he wanted to be a good fuck for him, that he didn’t want to stop, after he started.  The whore President.  It’s how Reno wants to see him, and he lets him, and if Reno knows it’s a lie, well, it’s good enough for him.   
  
When the lights are off, Reno knows that Rufus is just as dirty as he is.  The thought probably thrills him more than the sex.   
  
Tseng is next, and so easy that he almost feels remorse.  He wears his dignity like armor, never one to do anything inappropriate, never one to presume or dirty his hands.  The perfect Turk.  It’s also the way in.  Rufus sees the way his spine straightens when his father gives him orders, sees how he tries to cover for the fact that there’s nothing at home, nothing but the job and his pet project in the slums.  When he fists his hand in Tseng’s hair and tells him to get on his knees and suck his cock, it’s a gamble, but not nearly so much as it should be.     
  
When Rufus pretends not to hear Tseng’s sigh of relief when his knees hit the floor, he has a servant for life.   
  
Rude is quite a bit more challenging.   He’s a professional, but it seems like just a job to him.  He does his work and he does it well, and then he goes home.  He gets drunk, he has a healthy fondness for pretty girls with long legs but he doesn’t let it get to him.  There’s not a lot to go on.  But Rufus is patient and he listens.  Rude is impossible to read, but Reno is an open book.  They’ve been fucking for a while now and they think no one knows.  And maybe no one else does, but Rufus does, and he learns to listen to slow slide of Reno’s voice when he says something that he knows is climbing under Rude’s skin.  And once he recognizes the tone, he analyzes the words and after about three months, he knows what he has to do.  And it’s remarkably similar to something he’s already done, when he was much younger.   
  
He rehearses, in his head, for months, but he has to wait for the perfect time to put his plan into action.   
  
And then, one night, there’s a break in.  The old man had just raised the taxes yet again, and it was reasonable to assume it could be an assassin.  Rufus has never been in LESS danger than that night, not with Reno and Tseng down there to get the intruder.  But Rude’s on guard duty, and all Rufus has to do is take a few shaky breaths and make his eyes a little wider, scared.  He could have _died_.  Tseng and Reno could be getting hurt, because of _him_.  Rude swallows it hook, line and sinker.   _Protect me.  I need you.  Stay._ A hand wound around his tie.   _Stay.  Stay._   
  
When Rufus gasps over how good Rude’s hands feel, big and strong, how safe he feels, with Rude protecting him, how he knows he’ll always protect him, he can see it in his eyes.     
  
Stay.  Good dog.   
  
Elena is by far the hardest.  She’s all earnestness and naivete and it’s hard to find a vice, a thing she’d want badly enough to kill for if he pries it up the right way.  She wants so badly to be professional, to fit in with them, to be taken seriously, that he can’t see her opening up to something as unprofessional as sleeping with the boss.  Not while his old man is alive, anyway.  She’s too eager to prove herself.  And, in the end, that’s what he tries, not sure if it will work, but sure it won’t backfire at least.  An office party, a bit much to drink, or so she would think.  The others know.  They let her take his drunk self back to his room before he embarrasses himself.   
  
He leans on her, lets her close the door behind her before he staggers, makes her take his weight.  Beautiful, he tells her, slurred, before he kisses her.  No one else sees.  She’s beautiful and shes deadly and she’s *his*.  She’s his Turk, and he’s so proud of her, and he wants her so badly.  It’s all the truth, if not exactly in the way she thinks he means it, and she can see the truth in his eyes.  She’s lovely spread out on his sheets, trembling and disbelieving, awed by him already.  He’s gentle with her, teases her with his fingers first, then mouth, then makes love to her sweet and slow, steady, until she sobs.  She is a Turk, and in the days ahead, she will fuck him like a banshee, cry out loud enough he has to use a Silence materia on her, leave red welts in his back.  And he’ll give as good as he gets.  But tonight, tonight is slow and steady until she comes apart under him.  And then, he breathes eight little words into her ear.   
  
You are worthy.  You have always been worthy.   
  
She will die for him.   
  
There are others, other Turks that come and go, other ones that he isn’t attracted to in the least, ones whose skills he doesn’t admire, ones who die.  But these four, they stay by his side.  They protect him.  And slowly, they protect only him.  The old man tries to reclaim them, then belittle him with them.   
  
“Where’re your little Turks tonight, Rufus?” he sneers at a banquet and Rufus pretends to be upset, pretends that it’s gotten under his skin.  How dismissive!  How rude!  But secretly he smiles.   
  
Even the old man knows.   
  
His Turks.   
  
_ His _


End file.
